Agents of Chaos
by Looneygamemaster
Summary: A series of one-shots delving into the four most twisted villans of the Digital World...
1. The Despot

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon Adventure; it belongs to Toei.

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Ch. 1

The Despot

Underneath the dark, tumultuous sea, a sea that had once been calm and peaceful, the enormous sea serpent lay on the stone bottom.

Admiring all the sea.

Admiring all that was his.

It was all his, all of it. No one else's. He was the strongest. Stronger than any weak bottom feeder that roamed the waters.

Every corner of the sea, every grain of sand, every drop of water, belonged to him and only him.

It was only natural. Under his rule, the sea had become what it was meant to be. A force of nature. A force to be feared.

A force that was his empire.

The other residents of the sea would be allowed to live of course, if they swore absolute loyalty to him. And if they served him well. It was pointless to rule an empire without subjects. An emperor needed slaves.

He _knew_ how to rule, unlike the others.

The others…

They were powerful, but they were fools. Pinnochimon and Piemon saw the Digital World only as a plaything, something to have fun with, not to rule. They killed their own minions at will, and then laughed, as though they were playing with toys. They laughed as they killed the Village of Beginnings, not seeming to realize that they would doom their slaves to extinction.

All they cared for was pain.

Though he never showed it (show of emotion was weak, and he was strong), it…disturbed him.

Mugendramon…he thought Mugendramon was different at first. He ruled with an iron fist, crushing all free will. That was how an emperor should rule.

MetalSeadramon admired that. He thought he had found a kindred spirit he could respect.

Until he found his "pastime."

Now…now he disturbed him far more than the other two.

He growled in anger. And yet…the growling concealed something else.

Something within him that disturbed him more than anything his "comrades" did.

Something that laughed with wicked glee when they did those ridiculous and self-destructive acts.

Because, though he could hide it with arrogance and greed---he was Chaos.

And Chaos brought pain with conquest.

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A/N: Sorry if this chapter wasn't very good; MetalSeadramon is not my favorite Dark Master. Hopefully the next chapters will be better.

Read and Review please!


	2. The Control Freak

Disclaimer: Digimon I do not own. Belongs to Toei it does.

As I said in the last chapter, this one should be much more interesting. Be warned—nothing M worthy, but there are some rather disturbing images in this chapter.

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Ch. 2

The Control Freak

Throughout the eerily silent forest, where one would always be afraid of being watched, peals of laughter echoed forth. Any human would have been baffled by the laugh—for while the voice was that of a child, behind it was malice blacker than any human could posses.

But the owner's "friends" knew it all too well. They knew what it meant.

And they shuddered.

Inside his house, Pinnochimon giggled wildly, like a boy who had just gotten his birthday presents. He giggled at the success of his new game—French Revolution! Complete with real-life guillotine to slice off the heads of the wicked aristocracy!

He couldn't be friends with _that_ RedVagimon anymore, unfortunately. It was rather hard to enjoy the company of someone without the upper half of his body.

As quickly as he had started laughing, he stopped. "I'm bored."

Pinnochimon had the attention span of a gnat. Oh, his games would always amuse him, but they'd get old far too quickly. One could only play "Whack-a-Friend" so many times before it got dull.

Just like Bomb Squad…

Or Pin the Knife through the Rear…

He blamed everyone else. If _they_ had fun too, there would have been _twice_ as much fun, and he wouldn't get bored so quickly. And he didn't see how they couldn't have fun, as long as they followed the two basic rules.

Rule One, Pinnochimon always wins.

And Rule Two, Pinnochimon is always right. Everyone else is wrong.

With annoyance, he remembered the few who had gone against these _very_ important rules.

A Blossomon that had suggested a nice quiet game of checkers had been smashed by a giant game-board…

A Mushmon that had the audacity to argue that _he _had won a game of miniature golf (some ridiculous lie about getting a lower score, even accusing _him_ of setting that rule) had his head flying off for a hole in one…

And then, of course, there was the Floramon who had completely lost it, had shrieked at him, calling him a demonic little hellspawn with no heart.

A few days later, the others found the mangled remains of what had once been a Floramon, its head completely bashed into its body, put up as a scarecrow.

Pinnochimon, bored of simply killing spoilsports, had decided to see how long a digimon without a head would live.

The record was three days.

Grabbing his mallet, he decided he might as well play a game of Target Practice. That always calmed him down when bad friends clouded his memory.

Beacause all that was needed in a friend was the ability to do what he said.

He was Chaos…

And Chaos sought to control all…

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So….what d'ya think? Did I overdo it a little? Review and tell me your opinions!


	3. The Sadist

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon, but if I did, I certainly wouldn't have let Saban get their hands on it.

In response to a question I got, I do like Pinnochimon; the way he's so childish about his slaughter is chilling. But I personally think they spent too much time on him, with the result being that the other Dark Masters didn't get much development. My favorite is actually Piemon; the mad clown villain type is a terror to behold.

Like the last one, this chapter has some disturbing content, but it isn't M worthy.

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Ch. 3

The Sadist

Energy charge…100%.

Weapons state…optimal.

Everything was perfectly efficient as usual.

As it would always be.

Mugendramon was a machine. A higher being. A being of intellect far surpassing any other life form—especially the disgusting, worthless organics.

It was not boasting. It was fact.

It came as no surprise that his empire was running at peak efficiency.

Almost…

There were the slaves. They had no use; there was far more efficient energy to use.

But any other energy source did not scream…

Did not whimper…

Did not look up with tears as its pathetic life came to an end…

It was truly an oddity for a machine to prefer such things. Mugendramon remembered his creation; he certainly did not possess such preferences.

It had all started with a malfunctioning Mechanorimon. The worthless defect had gone off course and its random destruction had reduced efficiency by 47%.

Unacceptable. He had smashed it with his enormous claw and thought nothing of it.

Then, there was the Tankmon. The pathetic model that had miscalculated its testing fire, and had accidentally shot a power line, disrupting power for at least 5 cycles. Efficiency was down by 84%.

Enraged, he drove its claw into its processor…

Something was different.

The Mechanorimon…it had no sentinence. It was merely a doll.

But the Tankmon—the Tankmon had sentinence. It looked up with fear in its eyes as Mugendramon had extinguished its pathetic spark.

It felt…elating.

Confused by this non-machine like feeling, Mugendramon pushed it back into his memory chip and forgot about it.

Until the Numemon…

Yes, the stupid organic filth that had sneaked out of its sewer to see if the city was safe…

As it somehow evaded his troops, Mugendramon had found it. He obliterated the vermin with one swipe of his claws.

Ripping flesh…

A scream of pain…

It was…_wonderful_.

Deciding he needed to observe this odd phenomenon, Mugendramon ordered all the Numemon in the sewers captured.

They would be put to work—they would power his empire.

Except for some—yes, his own private collection.

And Mugendramon experimented.

He slashed at Numemon with his claws at varying speeds, noting that the feeling was greater if he ripped its flesh slowly…

He fired his cannons, and obliterated hundreds at once, again at varying speeds, and again noting the feeling's correlation with his speed.

He smashed Numemon…

He brought a ceiling down on one…

He grabbed a stray rock and felt it squirm as it was slowly crushed…

Before he had realized it, he was not taking notes.

He was killing them…because he _liked _it.

All too soon, his collection was gone. Realizing he had let the feeling control him too much, he decided not to pursue anymore.

Until his minions' incompetence aggravated him…

Or something had happened to reduce efficiency by more than half…

Or, most often, when the screaming beast inside him could not be satiated anymore…

He would collect a few of the slaves…_and calm himself_.

Soon he ignored the voice coming from his CPU, telling him that this was illogical, and not fitting of a machine.

He was a machine. But he was also Chaos…

And Chaos would always seek more pain…

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Well…this chapter ended up even more disturbing than I thought it'd be. Maybe I have issues...

Read it and review, if you please!


	4. The Thespian

Disclaimer: Well, since I haven't amassed a large fortune since the last chapter, I don't own Digimon. It still belongs to Toei—and partly to Funimation.

Before I start this chapter, I just want to thank Caellach Tiger Eye; whoever you are, you've reviewed every one of my chapters, and your input is fascinating. Thank you very much—writing stories feels worthwhile when people like them.

Now, on to the last chapter!

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Ch. 4

The Thespian

"_All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts…"_

--William Shakespeare, _As You Like It_.

From atop the highest point in the Digital World, Piemon chuckled wickedly, as he sipped his wine.

Looking upon Spiral Mountain. Spiral Mountain—his ode to chaos.

The symbol of his new Digital World.

The perfect stage for the play.

For what seemed like the millionth time, he went over the wondrous play in his head. One might have gone mad after so much thinking about it. Piemon, however, was _already_ mad.

Which didn't bother him. Everyone knew madness and genius were closely related.

Act I, Scene I.

The curtain opens upon the Grand Master, floating in the deadness of space. Finally overcoming the seal from which his wretched enemies had confined him to, the Master is nonetheless weakened.

Thus, from himself, he brings forth agents, to continue his work, and prepare for his coming.

The first, of course, is the play's protagonist, the dashing, devil-may-care Piemon. Then his supporting actors are brought forth.

MetalSeadramon—large, imposing, and boastful.

Pinnochimon—childlike and eager for play.

Mugendramon—quiet and ruthless.

The four are instructed upon, and depart to the Digital World, whereupon their goal will become clear.

Act I, Scene II.

The Digital World is established. Its calm, peaceful tranquility is unrivaled.

All is in calm, perfect order.

Piemon _loathes_ order.

Thus, sensing that he positively has a _duty_ to liberate the world from the dull horror that is order, he begins establishing his army in secret.

Their very presence corrupts some souls, resulting in some evil in the Digital World. Some small cracks in the wall of order.

A soft-speaking, eloquent devil with an obsession for darkness…

A loud, tone-deaf monkey boasting of his might and using his network to rule all…

And their proudest project—a vampire almost on _their_ level with his inspiring evil.

Yes—truly a wonderful start.

Act I, Scene III.

Receiving orders from the Master, Piemon bursts into their enemies' secret base and raises some grand hell.

To destroy their future enemies—the ones who threaten their grand plan.

One foolish foe attempts to engage the protagonist in battle. Fighting him, is of course, beneath Piemon, who simply guarantees that he'll receive a nasty surprise later…

But the foe proves slippery, and escapes with their enemies.

Piemon has failed. But he takes it in stride. For unlike his foes, he knows that any thing they try is futile.

Ah, irony—it truly is delicious!

Act I, Scene IV.

Much, much later. With the protectors of order temporarily gone, the Master gives one order.

_Destroy._

The four go forth, spreading wonderful chaos. Smashing buildings, obliterating background characters, putting an end to the monotony these poor creatures call life.

Soon they rip the very fabric of the Digital World—and reshape it.

And thus, Spiral Mountain—the symbol of their new world. The symbol of chaos.

Some are foolish enough to fight—and Piemon has great enjoyment in ending their lives.

All is in Chaos.

Until…they stop attacking.

The Dark Masters have absolute rule.

All…is in order.

And Piemon _loathes_ order.

Had the curtain fallen for good on _that _scene, Piemon would have been a very sad clown.

In fact, he considered using the authority the Master had given him and only him. To signal him forth—and call forth Apocalypse itself.

Now THAT would be fun!

Then, their foes returned. And Piemon was elated.

Now he was glad he had failed to stop their forming. These children—they would form the perfect characters for the second and final act.

Piemon's chuckle became a loud, evil laugh, as he imagined its proceedings.

Act II, Scene I.

The children arrive, aghast at what they perceive at horror. Their meeting with Piemon and his associates are arranged, but they escape.

Act II, Scene II,

The Children go forth, battling the Dark Masters, losing friends to their evil, but securing a sense of hope.

Act II, Scene III.

Until that hope is dashed. Piemon crushes them, takes them to his lair—where he spends as much time as he can devising different ways of torture.

Act II, Scene IV.

Finally, after his joy at their pain is gone, Piemon calls forth the Master—and all is destroyed.

No more order.

Yes—truly a wonderful play.

He was Chaos…

His associates were Chaos, though they hid it…

But he embraced it…

And would have it envelop all…

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Well, this is the end of my story. I hope you like it—and to those who do, please review!


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